


Not With The Eyes

by jovialien



Category: All American Rejects, Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:44:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jovialien/pseuds/jovialien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's rare for the boys to get some time alone, let alone with space to play, and Nick has a (borrowed) idea of how best to take advantage of this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not With The Eyes

Tyson Ritter trusts Nick Wheeler. Always has, since, like, for fucking  _ever_ , since they met. That he's pretty much been head over heels in love with him for about that long too (maybe five seconds less) might have something to do with it. But, truth is, they've not been  _together_  for that long really; with the limits of touring and everyday life, hiding the true extent of their relationship and balancing the need to  _be_  together and work together is rough, so it's not like they've ever had much date time.   
  
On the flip side, when they do finally get some proper privacy, they're still in that awesome working out every single kink and twist stage, and figuring out just how far they can push each other.  
  
Tonight though, he's not sure if they might be about to reach his limit.  
  
“Blindfold. Seriously? What brought that on?”  
  
Nick shrugged and leaned closer to him on the couch. The cabin's so peaceful, calm and still, and right now Tyson's thoughts had been drifting more towards what movie they were going to watch next than sex games. Still, he was nothing if not adaptable. Nick nestled against him, a hand drifting up Tyson's thigh, though admittedly more of a gesture of reassurance than seduction.  
  
“Just something Patrick mentioned. Said he caught Pete with this silk blindfold thing on and Ross in the bathroom.”  
  
“Pete? Wentz? And Ryan Ross?” Tyson shuddered and leaned back against the couch. “There goes my hard on for the night.”  
  
A lopsided grin came over Nick's face as he twisted on the couch, his hand rising higher to press against Tyson's crotch. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Ty grinned as caught the look in Nick's eyes. It only took his body a moment to respond to the touch, the thrill of Nick just touching him enough to get him hard almost straight away. If they ever got this record finished, he was gonna have to be  _really_  careful on stage or put a fucking chastity belt on when they toured.  
  
“You were saying?” Nick murmured, rubbing his hand leisurely against him.  
  
“Fucker,” Ty whispered back, tilting his head back against the couch. “Not fair.”  
  
“Want me to stop?”  
  
“Don't you fucking dare.”  
  
“So, you gonna let Pete Wentz do something you won't try?”  
  
Snorting, Tyson fidgeted on the couch, the touch infuriatingly teasing, nowhere near enough, and knowing too well that just a bit more pressure and he'd agree to pretty much anything to get Nick to carry on. “I didn't say I wouldn't, you just surprised me.”  
  
“Good,” Nick grinned, sliding up from the couch and making Ty groan as the pressure stopped. “Come on then.”  
  
Fiddling with his jeans, trying to walk without catching himself too badly, Tyson followed him through to the bedroom. The twin beds were pushed together against the wall with the sheets still rumpled from that morning. “So, what, you just gonna do me with a blindfold on or something?”  
  
“Something like that,” Nick said, looking round the room. “Strip.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Tyson saluted, pulling off his baggy t shirt with ease and tossing it to one side. He shucked off his jeans and boxers, kicking them away, before bouncing onto the bed and grinning broadly as the wooden frame creaked. He settled up against the pillows and hooked his hands behind his bed, reclining expectantly like some Greek God or Arab Prince, awaiting service. “Where'd you want me?”  
  
To his surprise, Nick seemed to be genuinely thinking about it, mulling it over in his mind before nodding. “Face up. Just lie on your back, uh arms out, and don't move again until I tell you. Oh and lift your head up a bit and close your eyes.”  
  
Chuckling, Tyson shifted lower down the bed as Nick knelt beside him then closed his eyes. “Your fantasy man, I am yours to command-” He tried not to react as he felt something drop onto his face, soft and smelling lightly of Nick's usual fabric conditioner. The fabric tickled as he felt Nick's fingers gently slide it into place, the pressure of fingertips brushing through his hair soothing even as the material tightened.  
  
“You okay?”   
  
“Yeah,” bringing a hand up to help position it fully over his eyes, Tyson lay back against the pillow and settled down. “Cosy.” Chuckling, he felt the mattress beside him react as Nick presumably got up again. “So, you gonna get naked too so we can get on with this?”  
  
Nothing.  
  
He waited, alone in the not quite darkness of the blindfold, listening, waiting for Nick's return. The air was still, and he could hear the TV click off in the next room and the faint sound of the trees outside rustling. From the sound of soft footsteps, Nick was somewhere else in the cabin, having left the bedroom.  
  
“Nicky?” Tyson called out, trying to resist the urge to sit up and pull off the blindfold. “If this is some kind of prank, if you put pictures of this on the internet I swear-”  
  
“Oh shut up Ty,” Nick called back, the footsteps hurrying back and then the small amount of light coming through the blindfold vanished with a click. Lights out. “Just needed a couple of things.”  
  
“Things?” Ty tried not to let his nervousness show. “Uh, Nicky, just what-”  
  
“Do you trust me?”  
  
“Completely,” Tyson replied, not even hesitating, the answer surprising him a little and calming him. It was Nick. He was safe. He would always be safe with Nick.  
  
“Then shut the fuck up and just let me try this, okay?” The bed dipped and he felt a soft kiss against his forehead, then another brush against his lips. He arched up to meet it, chasing the touch and capturing Nick's lips blindly, feeling him press back. He could almost feel a grin in the kiss, the slight hitch of excitement to Nick's breathing, and tried not to smile too much. This really  _was_  a kink of Nick's.  
  
And there was no fucking way he was going to let him down.  
  
Suddenly Nick pulled back and Tyson whimpered, pouting ridiculously and hearing a chuckle in reply. Continuing to pout, Ty wasn't paying attention and almost jumped at the first touch of Nick's fingertip on the back of his left hand. It was just gentle, slow circles across the hairs, tickling and teasing up to his wrist. Oh. It was going to be one of  _those_  nights. Mentally preparing himself for the long haul, he took a deep breath, focusing on the sensation of Nick's skin against his.  
  
It wasn't exactly warm, not like Nick's fingers were hot or anything, and when he felt what he suspected were letters being drawn against his wrist, he had no idea what they were. But when Nick's lips brushed against his skin again, he didn't care. A splash of hot breath coursed over his wrist, and a kiss that was somehow simultaneously hot and cold pressed against the soft protrusion of bone through his skin. It was slow, lingering, giving him time to relish the sensation, and he sighed softly.  
  
The kiss stopped, the breath fading away and replaced with the slow circles again. The fingers drifted higher, catching against the soft thread of his wristband. The sensation carried through it, tickling the underside of his wrist, then was gone. Another kiss pressed lightly against what he guessed was the middle of his forearm, and he wished he could see what Nick was doing.   
  
He could picture Nick's hair falling lightly over his forehead, and the way his eyes would be so wide by now. Or would they? It was so hard to tell, was Nick enjoying this? It almost felt unfair, to be laid out like this, all the focus on him and nothing for Nick. Would it be enough for Nick?  
  
For a second, Ty pictured their roles reversed, Nick laid out naked for him, trying not to react as he teased and tormented him and drove him wild. Would it be enough for Tyson?  
  
Fuck yes.  
  
Letting go of that worry, Tyson shivered as he felt a kiss to the inside of his elbow. It tickled, lingering, what must be the tip of Nick's tongue playing over the sensitive skin. He tightened his fingers, feeling the sheets ruck underneath them. Damn, Nick really had been paying attention. He knew just where to tease him.  
  
Tyson wriggled slightly, shifting his arm against Nick's mouth and was rewarded with a slow lick up towards his shoulder that made goosebumps rise on his skin. It was crazy, the same move wouldn't usually even register, but right now every single piece of his awareness was focused on the rapidly cooling trail Nick was leaving on his skin. As lips reached his shoulder, Tyson sighed happily as they played over his collar bone, nuzzling and nibbling at the skin as he could finally really feel Nick there.  
  
He could smell Nick's hair, shampoo and hair product mixed with the scent of cooking from their dinner and a faint tint of wood smoke, probably from the day before, that hadn't quite faded yet. He could feel the tips of the strands stroking against his jaw, not quite as stiff or straightened as usual, more relaxed and natural than their public look.   
  
There were regular splashes of Nick's breath against his skin, the heat just a split second sensation, but the tickle of it lingering like the sound, whispering to his ears and reminding him of the sea, the steady in and out of the waves and the soft whistle of the wind along the coast. He could hear the slight edge to Nick's breathing, deep and steady, but almost too controlled, and the faintest little hum of pleasure from him.  
  
It was so quiet, there was nothing in Tyson's world now but Nick's breathing, the soft creak of the mattress and bedframe as he shifted, the faint hiss of the trees outside dancing in the wind. It was peaceful, as though the entire world had faded except for them. It was rare for them to be so completely alone and silent.   
  
Usually they had snatched moments and so many distractions; the hum of the bus engines, the sound of Chris snoring, the slithering of cars outside a motel window, late revellers staggering home or doors slamming. Sometimes it was better and a sound of their own choice, background music playing to make sure they weren't overheard or a movie playing on a long forgotten TV. But all he could hear now was his own breath, surprisingly ragged to his own mind, and the soft sounds of Nick's efforts.  
  
The silence was so complete, Tyson could hear the sound Nick's lips were making as they drifted up to his throat, the kisses and licks and soft drag of teeth the only place Nick would let them touch, the rest of his body held clear. It was excruciating, lying still, resisting the urge to just grab Nick and flip him over, tear at his clothes and just fuck him senseless-  
  
Forcing a deep breath in then out, Tyson sighed softly as Nick's mouth found the sweet spot just under his ear, his breath tickling and roaring in equal measure, making Tyson want to simultaneously twist away and press into the touch. Instead, he held still, waiting until Nick was drifting higher, kissing along his jaw, before twisting to meet him, attempting to capture his lips but missing. He brushed over what felt like Nick's cheek instead, the faintest texture of stubble catching his mouth.  
  
Then Nick was there and oh, fuck, there was nothing but Nick, Nick's lips, Nick's tongue and finally he could do something about it. Making up for lost time, Tyson didn't hold anything back, hungrily searching for more, anything, his tongue questing over Nick's lips before sliding in.   
  
He could taste Nick so clearly, the tinge of beer and chips strong from their TV snacks, but there was also something fundamentally Nick to it all. It was a taste that always brought back memories of grass and damp ground, clean air and cheap, weak beer and Nick beside him. But then he forgot the past as he felt his bottom lip being captured, snagged by Nick and stretched, pulling out so far before he let go.   
  
Tyson wasn't prepared for just how bereft he felt at the loss of contact, suddenly realising that usually at this point he would be looking into Nick's eyes, loving every second of just how dark they were, watching how swollen his lips were or if they were going that uniquely 'just had his face snogged off Nick' shade of red yet.   
  
Tyson would usually still at least have his arms wrapped around Nick, the warmth of their bodies together. He wanted it, needed the contact, and whimpered softly, pouting, wishing he could do his usual puppy dog eyed look. He had a feeling he was less impressive with just the lips.  
  
Then Nick's fingers were back, shifting to the other arm now, and sliding slightly faster this time, as though the kiss had shattered some of Nick's resolve to take it slow. That was fine with him.   
  
He could feel the fingers trace up to the power socket tattoo and stop circling, instead tracing over the ink, lifting and running over every line. His own personal on switch. Much like Nick himself. When the fingertip followed the line of the cord, Tyson tried to relax, slightly ticklish across his shoulder. It wasn't as bad the other side, too many years of guitar strap contact rubbing against it to really be as sensitive any more, but right  _there_  the soft tickle of Nick's lips made him groan.  
  
Tyson could feel Nick pause at the sound and could somehow sense the grin before Nick continued to tease over the same spot, making Ty groan again, but more in frustration this time.  
  
“Tease.”  
  
“Yep,” Nick whispered against his skin, just lips, but then fingertips joined them, tracing over what had to be the letters of his tattoo. Just three letters that bound them together, forever, through thick and thin, better and worse, through hits and flops-  
  
Who needed a ring when you could have ink?  
  
Then again, Tyson realised, that would practically make him married to Chris and Mike and well, and he couldn't help laughing.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing,” Tyson chuckled, “just thinking of Chris and Mike.”  
  
Nick stopped moving, his fingers lifting off the tattoo, his mouth still somewhere above Tyson but no longer touching. The little part of Tyson's brain that was still functioning on minimal blood flow had already sent an memo to his mouth to STFU, but it was stuck in the mail somewhere behind his ear.  
  
“Chris. And Mike.”  
  
“Yeah, I was just-” The memo from Tyson's brain finally reached his mouth and he laughed, shaking his head quickly and lifting a hand, brushing against what must be Nick's arm. “No, not like that, the tattoo, I just-”  
  
Tyson gasped as fingers wrapped tightly around his cock, another hand grabbing his wrist and pinning him to the bed, the move both incredibly arousing and just a little threatening, his brain almost overloading from the sudden rush of sensation. Then Nick was kissing him again, hard and furious, the fabric of his t shirt brushing against Tyson's chest and the pressure against his lips almost bruising him as teeth and tongues fought for control. Finally Nick broke off, humour and anger in his tone as his breath flickered over Tyson's chin.  
  
“Who are you thinking of now?”  
  
“Y-You,” Tyson stammered, breathing heavily, “always you. Fuck, Nicky, it's always been you, just you, no one-”  
  
“Ty.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
As Nick's fingers released him and the hand holding his cock loosened, Tyson couldn't help bucking up into it a little. The sweet friction, the loose fingers around him, was incredible and he moaned deeply, needing more, much more, but grateful for even that touch. But then the hand let go completely, fingers spreading wide over his hip and pushing him back down into the bed. He obeyed with a whimper, then sighed as the hand traced over his hip, fingertip running along the sharp lines of his hips.  
  
It tickled. Like crazy. Nick, of course, knew that, had discovered it by accident during one of their first blow job sessions. Nick's hands had been gripping onto Tyson's hips, trying to stop him from thrusting and making Nick gag when a thumb had brushed over a sensitive spot and made Ty laugh. Now Nick added it in whenever he needed to get revenge, an unspoken signal to calm down and behave, to relax and let him take control.   
  
Depending on the situation it had meant “stop fucking my tonsils, that hurts”, “shut up or Mike will hear you”, “dude, I think I just heard room service coming”, “ow, let go of my hair”, “watch the hair”, “don't you dare cum on my hair”-  
  
Come to think of it, Ty reflected, most of the times Nick made that move it was a warning not to mess with the hair. Of course this time that wasn't an issue. That was another reason why he loved escaping up here; no press, no coming across fans, in fact no one at all, so no need for Nick to style his hair to oblivion. It was having a break and recovering from its normal routine of heat, and products to protect it from the heat, and products to make it fall in just the right way.  
  
Nick's hair was great hair, but Ty's favourite look was Nick totally dishevelled and undone, hair all over the place from where Tyson had gripped it, his fingers running through it. Up here it was like that nearly all the time. Much like his own.  
  
The press of Nick's fingers against his side brought his attention back to the present, three or maybe four, he wasn't sure, running up from his hip to his arm, skirting around to glide back over his chest again. Not being able to see was torture, the sensations impossible to predict and making his brain overload trying to follow them, trying to know where they would go next or whether to tense or relax. It was maddening.  
  
What he wasn't expecting was what happened next.  
  
The fingertips lifted, leaving him alone, but then  _something_  ran over his chest, something firm but almost prickly, so many points catching over his skin that he couldn't count them, had no idea what was going on. It tickled and itched at the same time, something else far, far, softer, like cobwebs almost, dragging across his chest and he laughed, wriggling against it.  
  
“That- That tickles, what the fuck is that?”  
  
Nick's only reply was to laugh and kiss Tyson's AAR tattoo again, his hand still moving the whatever it was over Tyson's stomach. It lifted then tapped lightly against Ty's hardening cock, the sensation really odd but not unpleasant just... weird. The lightest pressure of it dug into him then it was gone again.  
  
Ty braced himself, listening and feeling Nick shift on the bed, presumably getting something else, then jumped, swearing loudly as something wet and  _cold_  dripped onto his stomach, trailing up to aim into his belly button.  
  
“Nicky!”  
  
It was so cold, so unexpected, so fucking freezing and evil and oh, he was gonna get Nick back for this, there was going to be hell to pay, he was going to fuck him so hard he couldn't sit down for a week.   
  
What felt like a frozen blob of evil glided smoothly up his chest then down again, soaking his happy trail in one swift stripe and trickling down towards his prick.  
  
Make that a fortnight.   
  
“Fuck, just...” Tyson gripped the sheets tight, feeling the fabric bunching around his grip. This was evil. He should stop it. He should make Nick stop.  
  
Except he knew full well that he could, at any time.  
  
But he could hear it, he could hear the hitch in Nick's breath, the odd little hum and chuckle that he knew all too well, a soft sound that Nick only made when he was aroused. This was turning Nick on. And, in turn, that was turning Tyson on.  
  
Or maybe it was that he was enjoying giving up control like this a lot more than he'd usually let on. Out there, he was the model, the frontman, the one who spoke up, the one who all the interviewers went to first and the first name the kids learnt when they discovered the music. He was the one who was photographed and analysed, every date or woman seen with him investigated and assessed. It was exhausting, the constant act, the goofiness or model cool hiding the real him.  
  
Not that the real him wasn't a huge goofball too, just that in public it was emphasised, a caricature, a show.  
  
Then there was Nick, overshadowed, always behind him,  _always_ , but never complaining. Not in public anyway. But now, Nick was in charge, and even though Tyson could stop him absolutely any time he wanted, could just lift his hands from the bed and take off the blindfold, he knew there was no way he would do that.   
  
Besides, if he could get through this, if he was enjoying this so much, who knew what else they might try next?  
  
Bracing himself against the cold, Tyson gritted his teeth as the blob of what he assumed to be ice trailed over his nipple, sharp and hard and spiking like splinters in his brain. It was so cold, too cold, he was going to burn or get frostbite and lose his fucking nipple and maybe that was Nick's plan to finally make him put a shirt on-  
  
Suddenly it lifted, vanishing, but then something wonderfully warm and wet replaced it, his numb skin finally registering distinct lips and the press of Nick's tongue, lapping up the icy trail and replacing it with glorious heat. With one final, slow, lingering stripe of his tongue, Nick trailed up towards Tyson's shoulder, making Ty groan and arch on the bed. The ice suddenly spiked over his shoulder, pooling cold water on his skin, but then the tongue followed it straight away, cold then warm, the contrast blowing his mind.  
  
When the ice dripped against his lips, he licked them instinctively, then opened his mouth wide, asking for more. He could feel the ice trail over his lips and wondered how it looked to Nick, whether they were reddening or going blue with the chill, whether they were wet and inviting and if Nick was ever going to fucking kiss him ever again. Pursing his lips, Ty kissed the ice, licking against it, wrapping his tongue over the cube hungrily, enjoying the cool taste.  
  
Then it was gone and just as he'd hoped, there was Nick again, his lips, his mouth, kissing him and warm, so warm, and it was perfect and hungry and he could feel it so clearly. Then there was a shift on the bed and suddenly  _there_  was Nick, still fully clothed, his sweat pants and t shirt brushing over Ty's naked body, pressing down on him and all he could feel was heat and cloth and pressure and-  
  
Oh. Nick was  _really_  into this. He could feel Nick's cock pressing against his own, insistent and eager, and he wanted so much to touch it. Nick's fingers were pressing into the bed, somewhere up by his head, and Ty bent his arm slowly, reaching blindly out into the air and hesitantly brushing over Nick's arm.   
  
Tyson moved slowly, cautiously, not sure if this would be breaking the rules of whatever game this was that Nick was playing, but when he didn't react (unless you counted biting down on Ty's lip, which could have meant “no, stop that” but Ty was choosing to interpret as “fuck yes, about time”) he gripped more firmly, sliding his fingers up Nick's arms and under the edges of his short sleeve.   
  
He wanted to be sucked, to be blind and totally focused on just Nick's mouth. He wanted to be fucked, to be bent and twisted and used completely. He wanted to drop to his knees and suck Nick off like some captured slave, to know Nick was watching him and completely in control during that most submissive of acts. He wanted to rip off the blindfold at last to see Nick's eyes, pupils blown and sleepy, completely and utterly  _fucked_ .  
  
He didn't know what the hell he wanted. He just knew that Nick would most definitely be involved, and preferably as soon as possible.  
  
“Nicky, please,” he begged softly, his words muffled by the kiss, his voice wrecked with it, but as though reading his mind, Nick pulled back off. The loss of contact was excruciating and Ty bucked up on the bed, hoping to catch some stray piece of Nick to pull closer. He could feel movement on the bed, then gasped as something cold slid along his prick, quickly, gliding along his length before circling over the head, lingering before enveloping him and-  
  
Oh fuck, that was Nick's mouth, but it was cold, the last sliver of ice in there too, but there was his tongue, that was most definitely his tongue. Grabbing out desperately, Tyson groaned in triumph as he found Nick's hair, soft and ruffled under his fingers as he held on carefully. It didn't matter that he had the blindfold on, he suddenly gasped out a breath and realised he was seeing fucking stars he had forgotten to inhale for so long.   
  
It wasn't as though he could always see Nick doing this, there had been enough nights in narrow bunks and dark corners that he was used to going by touch, but there was always something else to focus on. Some sound, some patch of light showing up a discarded t shirt or a gap in the curtain showing Mike's arm hanging out from his bunk. There was always something else to take his attention away but right now there was only Nick, that totally unique sound of being sucked off. and Nick's little hums and sighs and his own ragged breathing, and it was fucking incredible.  
  
It shouldn't be this good, Ty tried to reason with himself, it was just a blow job, they'd done it before hundreds of times, but the slow tease, the anticipation- if he didn't calm down he was going to blow in record time, especially if...  
  
“Oh fuck,” Tyson groaned, arching up off the bed and feeling his neck ache at the angle but unable to stop thrusting his head deep into the pillow, blind eyes staring at what must be the wall by now. He could feel what must be Nick's fingers around his cock, but the way he was moving it just felt like he was sliding in impossibly deep, going on forever, and the drag back was slow and hard, making his head swim. “Nicky, too- Too much.”  
  
With a soft groan, Nick pulled free, the pop all too audible in the quiet cabin. Tyson swore he heard him licking his lips and wanted them right then, against his, he needed to taste it. There was a series of bounces through the mattress and the sound of something maybe flying through the air, and Tyson pulled his hands up to his hair, desperately trying to calm down. This was insane.  
  
“Ty...” The whisper was so close, so very close, and he turned his head towards it and was rewarded with the brush of Nick's lips, warm and soothing and gentle, a moment of perfect calm. The hunger was ignored for a precious second, the urgency gone, and for the brief eye of their personal storm, all was still.  
  
Then Nick pulled back and Ty groaned again, but stopped as something pressed against his lips, sucking it in easily. Nick's fingers. Licking hungrily over the tips, Tyson wished he could look up but instead focused on the sensation in his mouth, opening wide to take as much as he could, moaning happily and completely obscenely.  
  
The fingers drew back and he realised he must have pushed too far when something else dragged across his mouth, bigger, softer- Recognising the feel and taste, Tyson opened wide, shifting as best he could on the bed to find his way along Nick's cock, licking and sucking as best he could, feeling the length of it against his cheek and jaw. He couldn't see and had trouble working out the angles but then, suddenly he had it, although whether it was all him or Nick was helping he had no idea, but his lips were wrapped tight around it.  
  
He could still remember the first time he had felt this, the first time he and Nick had realised that not only were they not going to get killed for making a move but, beyond all hope, the other felt the same way. They had made up for lost time with a vengeance, lasting barely long enough to push their pants down, unskilled but eager and giggling as much as they groaned those first few weeks. But now, he knew exactly what Nick liked and used every trick he had as he licked and pressed and dragged the hard tip of his tongue right  _there_ .  
  
Nick cried out, groaning deeply, and the sound only encouraged Tyson to suck harder, hollowing his already impressive cheeks further and humming quietly. He grinned as best he could as Nick recognised the tune as Bon Jovi's  _Bad Medicine_ and laughed, a hand reaching out and stroking slowly over Tyson's hair, blowing another spark in his brain.   
  
He wondered if Nick was enjoying the view, hoped he was, and reached out blindly again, his hands rising up and brushing over hot, bare skin. He had no idea what it was but just focused on the sensation of skin in his hands, of the prick, Nick's prick, in his mouth and the taste of him against the back of his throat.  
  
“Tyson...” The fingers wrapped gently through his hair and pulled back, guiding him, pulling him slowly away and Tyson opened wide, guiding Nick's cock back out with his tongue before licking his lips slowly.  
  
“Nicky, now, please.”  
  
He felt his head being lifted up and followed, sitting up and feeling Nick climb onto his lap, straddling him and pulling him close. He could feel Nick wrap around him tightly, bare thighs pressing against his side and arms around his body, and the hard press of their cocks between them. The kiss when it came was soft, lingering, but then Nick began to move, just a slow grind and Tyson groaned deeply, grabbing onto him tightly.  
  
They weren't quite lined up, the friction not going to be enough for them to come, but it was still so good, the feel of Nick in his arms. He buried his face in Nick's shoulder, breathing him in and focusing on the sweet feel of him and the scent of his skin, shower gel and sweat and deodorant and cotton combining with that uniquely Nick smell that he never really concentrated on but was unforgettable.  
  
As he felt Nick speed up, trying to get more friction between them, shifting his hips and making them both cry out with the pressure, Tyson grinned and took matters into his own hands. Holding on tight, he leaned back, pulling them both down to the mattress and hearing Nick yelp in his ear as they toppled back. It took Nick a moment to untangle his legs from behind Tyson, but those yoga classes weren't all for nothing, and in a few seconds he felt deceptively strong legs either side of his hips, pinning him down.  
  
Then Nick's hands grabbed his wrists, forcing them up above his head, his fingers brushing against the headboard. The pressure of Nick against him was controlling, marking that he was in charge, but not threatening and in response, Tyson pressed upwards with his hips, bucking on the bed.  
  
Laughing, Nick lay down, the sensation of his chest against Tyson's was so reassuring and familiar and then, oh, there were his lips again. He could feel Nick stretched out on top of him, covering him, their pricks trapped together between them and gasped into the kiss as Nick began to move. There was no hesitation this time, no imperfections, just the right amount of friction and the right pressure and ohgod, they were so close, rubbing together, and the noise Nick was making-  
  
Gasping, Tyson broke off the kiss as it all began to become too much, breathing heavily into the still air. His head was filled with nothing but the pounding of his own heart and the sound of their breathing and the scent of Nick's mouth and the heat of his breath and body and the feel of their sweat forming and the chill of the air against it and the sound of Nick whispering his name, over and over and-  
  
With a choked back cry, Tyson came, his head snapping back as he bucked up, almost throwing Nick off but he held on tight, riding Tyson out whilst continuing to grind, hurrying up, knowing he only had a short time before Tyson was too sensitive. Nick let go of his wrists, needing to get a better grip, and worked furiously to get himself off too, all his focus on himself now. In spite of his brain's rapid retreat into a small cuddly corner of his skull, Tyson managed to wriggle a hand up and pull the blindfold off, needing to see this.  
  
He was just in time, his ragged breaths combining with Nick's as his eyes adjusted and caught it, that wide eyed look, eyes so black, skin flushed and the way Nick  _looked_  at him. He could model forever, have a million screaming fangirls after him, have designers calling him handsome and beautiful and stunning but he never felt it, was always just the gangly freak inside his own head.   
  
Except for here.   
  
Except for when Nick looked at him like  _that_ . Right then, for that second, he felt like the second most handsome man on the planet. He grabbed Nick tight as he came, wrapping arms and legs around him as he slowed, watching every second of that sweet oblivion in his eyes before kissing him fiercely, catching him as he came back down again and bringing him back to Earth safely.  
  
They lay still, wrapped around each other as they drifted off to that half sleep, their brains completely switched off but their bodies not quite asleep, just recharging for a little while. When they finally came back to themselves, Nick rolled off with a groan, grabbing a wet wipe from the bedside table and cleaning them up before settling back into Tyson's arms sleepily.  
  
“Fuck, Ty, that was...”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You, the way you looked, and that-”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“Yeah.” Tyson sighed heavily and planted a kiss on Nick's forehead, finally noticing the light spilling through from the living room beyond and the trees rustling outside. At some point it had got dark and if they didn't move soon they would get some seriously annoying creepy flying things in knowing their luck.  
  
Just another five minutes.  
  
Closing his eyes, Tyson settled back into the pillow and sighed. “So, do you think I did better than Pete Wentz?”  
  
Chuckling, Nick nodded against his chest. “Anytime.”  
  
“Good.” As they began to drift off, he grinned again. “Don't suppose Patrick had any other suggestions at all?”  
  
Nick laughed, his voice low and husky as he snuggled up close. “Now you mention it...”  
  
**The End**


End file.
